


Over and over

by babydoll_spice



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Character Death, Connor Deserves Happiness, F/M, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Nightmares, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-19
Updated: 2018-07-19
Packaged: 2019-06-13 02:58:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 730
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15354732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/babydoll_spice/pseuds/babydoll_spice
Summary: He wouldn't make you hurt like that ever again.





	Over and over

The first time he died was unexpected. Horrifying, sudden. He just launched himself at the deviant, pulling the hostage out of the way and falling down off the edge with the deviant in toll. 

You were a CyberLife representative, sent out to make sure the RK800's integration amongst the humans went well, to report on how well he handles things, to be there to get him back on track, should he turn deviant. 

Your first meeting was... Awkward, to say the least. He had zero knowledge about human interaction, zero tact and the most awkward smile ever. 

"So they really didn't install the interaction initialization, huh?" You had uttered as you turned his head from side to side, examining the newest prototype, fingers brushing a stray strand of hair from his forehead. You hummed, glancing down at your clipboard as the android processed your interaction and stored it off for later uses. 

You headed to his first job. _His first deviant_. 

You made him do his calibration routine the whole time while you were making your way there. You didn't want anything to go wrong. 

Then he died and you could only run out onto the balcony and look over the edge. They fell down nearly 50 floor down, their biocomponents wouldn't take the fall, you knew. When you got down you see thirium splattered everywhere, and although you know he's not human, your insides churn. 

**You get home that night, after a lengthy stay at the DPD, and puke your guts out.**

His "death" shouldn't have affected you like that, but it did and even as they introduced you to his second copy, you felt your stomach churning. 

_There were more deaths after that._

After meeting lieutenant Anderson, you tagged with them on their investigations. You felt sick every time you had to see a corpse, every time you had to smell rotting flesh. But you couldn't go out, you had to keep an eye on Connor. 

His second death was in the interrogation room of the DPD. 

You watched through the glass as he interrogated his second deviant, watched as he probed it's memory forcefully and obtained information he needed. Watched as he intervened when the deviant continuously slammed it's head on the table and watched as it shot him and then itself with **deadly accuracy**. 

Lieutenant Anderson watched as you filed a report to CyberLife and requested another Connor be sent. "So what, he's just gonna be renewed each time he dies?" He asks, tone hard and filled with disgust. 

You only looked at him blankly and nodded, "Precisely so. The only downfall is the loss of memory, but he's renewed each time he dies, until he solves the case or a better model is put out." Hank just looked even more disgusted, but whether it was with CyberLife or you, you couldn't care less about. 

You went home that day and stared blankly at your wall for more than an hour. 

Your interactions with Connor were getting better, he was getting better at communicating with the lieutenant as well. You watched with a small unintentional smile as he analized Hank's desk and gathered information about him. As he made small talk with the lieutenant, you made a mental note to let him listen to some music when you got home. 

The third time. You cried when you got home. They sent the new Connor the same night, with the same smile, the same tuft of messy locks on his head. 

_You quit your job at CyberLife._

**The revolution was a success.**

And now here he was, the one you called lover, looking at you with worry and a soothing voice trying to calm you, to slow your heaving breath and stop your heart from bursting through your chest. 

You listened to his words of reassurance, "It's okay, it was a nightmare. Nothing more, nothing less." You just cried. Because it was a nightmare, but all those deaths were reality. 

You were so frantic, so sad, as you clung to him and cried your heart out and continuously made him promise to not die again, over and over. 

His brushed hair out of your forehead and promised, again and again, patiently waiting for you to fall asleep again. With each promise to you, he also promised to himself. 

_He wouldn't make you hurt like that ever again._


End file.
